It Started With a Date
by RegalMisfortune
Summary: Alistair Kirkland finds himself set up on a blind date, courtesy of two of his brothers. (Written for some of my readers from my last story since they asked nicely). On possible hiatus.
1. Chapter 1

**I was told by many of my readers that they wanted to see a Scotland and Vatican pairing story-thing, so I'm here to deliver.**

**To everyone new to me and my stories- welcome to the madness! I hope you stay awhile! Anyway, Vatican is my OC of whom I am very fond of, and through some shenanigans of one of my previous stories he ended up being in a tentative relationship with Scotland. It wasn't written much about, and naturally a lot of my readers wanted to see more. It's complicated. **

**This will probably be a bit slow in development. That being said, I would like to warn you all ahead of time that I believe myself to be pants at romance so this will be a trial of my skill. Nothing too detailed will be written, so don't get your hopes too high.  
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**Also this story makes the use of countries being human, so human names will be used and they will have human jobs and live human lives. I did this because I felt I can do more with the characters without being constrained by historical facts and things, and if anyone has read my stories before, I have a thing for history and looking things up. I'm trying to save you guys from reading a shit-ton of background stuff. No need to thank me.**

**The title of this story, as well as plot of this chapter, is loosely based from a short piece by Pond Ram. I have asked and was given permission to use the theme so I wouldn't accidentally offend people or be accused of trying to steal ideas. This will be the only thing that sort of shares anything with someone else's work, or I hope so.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia, nor the characters. Some of the concepts of some characters I did create, but many are fan-made that I happen to carry on the tradition.**

**Warnings: A sort of long chapter, human names used, swearing, consumption of alcohol, and the desire to use physical violence. **

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><p>Alistair Kirkland folded his arms over his chest, giving the most disapproving, unimpressed look he could muster. The source of his ire was two of his five siblings, who were giving such shark-like grins that made him want to knock their teeth out. The twin coppery-haired devils had just unleashed their newest prank on the eldest Kirkland brother, and now were looking quite pleased with themselves.<p>

Alistair's spring green eyes flickered from one twin to the other as he silently assessed them. At seventeen the twins reached Alistair's shoulders, their coppery hair cut to the napes of their necks in wild waves. Two sets of emerald green eyes gazed back at him, almost glittering in amusement and mischief. Their faces were heart shaped, sporting the family's sharp chins and noses. Their flesh was pale in comparison to the rest of the family, whose skin held a bit more color to it and didn't burn as much as theirs did in the sun. There were subtle differences between the twins- Connor was the elder of the two, and he was taller than his brother by only a couple of centimeters. It wasn't noticeable until they were standing right next to each other, and more importantly, standing still long enough to notice it. Blake, the young twin, also had several faint freckles across the bridge of his nose and over his cheekbones, but still not really noticeable unless they were in the same room as each other.

Or that you're their brother and had been dealing with the little shits for the entirety of their lives, which Alistair was and has.

Alistair had the lovely opportunity to be titled the eldest of the Kirkland brothers. That title came with the responsibility of taking care of five younger siblings when Mama Kirkland was busy being an important political figure. At the tender age of twenty-six with no schooling passed the mandatory secondary school and without a steady job (he did have jobs, just not an "upstanding" everyday job that Mama Kirkland would approve), Alistair knew he was seen as a failure in the eyes of his mother. It was even more noticeable when the next eldest, Arthur, at twenty, went to school to become a lawyer and was interning at some fancy law firm while also showing interest in the political field as well. Mama Kirkland always had to mention Arthur's "success" and questioning why Alistair couldn't do the same. It wasn't his fault he had no interest in those fields.

The twins were bound to graduate within the next year or so, and although they hadn't said on what they wanted to do to their mother, Alistair did. He was sure their mother was going to disapprove of both of them becoming bartenders of all things, but if they were successful and made a name for themselves, she could change her tune. At least they would have a steady job and income.

Dylan had a questionable future plan as well. At fourteen he still had a few more years in secondary school before moving on, but he already knew exactly what he wanted to do: raise sheep. Oh, Mama Kirkland was going to pop a blood vessel when she hears that (which hopefully wouldn't be for another couple of years). Alistair had asked him why: "I like sheep," Dylan had said simply. It also helped that Dylan had a cousin whose family ran a farm out in the country that he visited every summer, so it wasn't like he was going to go in blind. Alistair was certain he would even work there for free if their relatives didn't feel so guilty at taking advantage for his hard work. Mama Kirkland only thought of it as a 'learning experience' and allowed him to go, which she certainly wouldn't if she knew the real reason behind it.

Peter was still a mystery. The youngest of the family at nine, he still had a lot of time left to consider his future. At his age he thought up of so many possibilities, from a firefighter to a naval officer. Mama Kirkland would have to work hard to try to mold him into the perfect little son, but if any of the other brothers had anything to say about it, Peter would be anything but a copy of Arthur, who was the obvious favorite. No, neither the twins or Alistair could tolerate a second Arthur.

Yet at this moment, Connor and Blake would probably not be able to see the future at all for the stunt they just pulled.

As it was, because Alistair didn't seem to find a "decent" job, Mama Kirkland was trying her best to try to convince him to find a decent girl and settle down, hoping that if he could do that, he would then think about getting a job that was up to par with her standards. It had become even more frustrating for Mama Kirkland when she found out that Alistair was more a one-night-stand kind of guy, and that he took his sleeping partners in any shape or form, female or male, and typically when he was too drunk to care. That didn't stop her from constantly trying to persuade him to her side by casually mentioning any young woman whom she knew worked at the office or some politician's "princess" that just so happened to be single.

There was a reason why Alistair did not come home very often.

However, the twins didn't let him forget even if he was out of Mama Kirkland's sight. Making a joke out of the entire girl thing, Connor and Blake would try and "assist" Alistair into finding a decent girl. The "help" came in forms of magazines of scantily-cladded women under the sheets of his bed, pictures of supermodels saved as the background on his computer and even sending texts of "hot babes" that they saw in the stores or around the streets. They even made poster-sized photos of some actresses and stuck them to his ceiling with superglue. Some of the pieces still stubbornly clung to the ceiling.

This time they pulled their greatest prank yet. The twins had taken all of his information and made an account on some dating site and now Alistair was set up on a blind date with some woman. Tonight.

"No."

"You can't say no!" Connor exclaimed, puckering his lower lip out into a pout. "That's bad manners! You can't just leave a girl hanging!"

Alistair snorted. "I can and I will. I have no interest in meeting this tramp you dug up."

"But we even picked out the restaurant, made reservations, and set out your clothes!" Connor said, Blake bobbing his head in agreement.

"We even told Mama that you wouldn't be home for dinner because you had a date!" the younger twin added in.

The sneaky little fuckers. Alistair narrowed his eyes at them as they smiled innocently up at him. Now he had no choice in going on this damn date because he certainly didn't want to get an earful from their mother. Or eat her cooking; the one thing the all-so important woman spectacularly failed at.

"What restaurant did you two pick out?" he asked with a sigh, assigned to his fate. The two grinned at him in triumph.

"A nice little Italian place," Blake said as the two of them grabbed Alistair's arms, dragging him down the hallway towards his bedroom. "The site said they had excellent pasta plates!"

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><p>"I can't believe I'm doing this," Alistair muttered, tugging on his suit. He felt too dressed up to meet some blond ditz that the twins had dug up from the dredges of the Internet. At least they didn't make him wear a fucking tie- God he'd probably hang them both with it.<p>

He stood at the corner of the street, four buildings down from the Italian restaurant to wait for his guest as instructed. They were to meet at a quarter to seven, and it was about five minutes from being late.

"Hello, are you Alistair?"

The woman in question had finally arrived. She wore a black dress that clung tightly to her body, falling to knee-height in length. The neckline plunged low to hide nothing of her assets, and her hair was definitely dyed blond. She could be considered pretty by some with a round face, blue eyes, and pouty lips, but she had their air of snooty stupidity that rubbed Alistair the wrong way. Or maybe it was because she was trying way too hard. Really, she would've looked better by showing less of her cleavage. He wasn't drunk enough for this.

"You must be Caroline, then," he said, forcing himself to crack a smile. God, he really needed a smoke, but Blake took his pack from him. This was so stupid. The food better be good or else he was going to the nearest pub to get seriously wasted after this.

"Oh god, your hair is really is that red. I thought you were joking!" the woman gushed, looking like she was about to run her fingers through his fiery scarlet hair before deciding against it. Yup, he was definitely getting wasted after this disaster.

"Let's go in before we lose our reservations," Alistair said, changing the subject from his hair as he offered an arm out to Caroline, which she took and pressed a bit too close to him for his liking.

The restaurant was very nice on the inside. Not that it was some swanky place or anything, in fact it was seemingly homely while retaining its cultural richness. It didn't even look like a fake Italian place either with fake grapes and other shit. No, it was the real deal, from the Italian wines displayed on one of the far walls to the food he could spot on the other tables. The food (and the wine, because he was so getting some) was going to be the saving grace for this date, as he held no hopes for this girl.

The place was pretty busy with most of the tables full, and it seemed that they were short staffed with only two or three visible servers dancing from table to table trying to keep up. One brown-haired man called to them with a "Be there in a second!" before disappearing into the kitchens. The woman huffed beside him, obviously not happy with the wait.

The young server came hurrying back to them, a single stray curl bouncing from the rest of his hair (auburn, now that he was closer) as he moved. He was about average height with honey-colored eyes that seemed to be closed more often than open. His lips pulled back into a wide, kind smile on his round face that appeared natural on his face. "_Mi dispiace_! I hope you did not wait too long. We are so short-handed today! Four servers and a cook called in sick! There's such a horrible cold going around, I hope no one else gets it!"

"It's alright. We're here on reservation," Alistair said, cutting in on the Italian's rambling. "Under the name 'Kirkland'."

"Oh! Yes, let's see." The Italian server flipped through a booklet before nodding and pulling out two menus for them. "Right this way, please!" He lead the pair to a window seat, setting the menus down on the table before them as they sat down. "I'll have someone sent over here in a jiffy!" With that the man had all but fluttered off again to a table on the far side of the room.

"Obviously those servers are faking being sick," Caroline said as she flipped through the menu. "There's no way that many could be sick all at once. They shouldn't make us wait just because their workers are playing hooky. Just hire more servers!"

Alistair grunted noncommittally, propping his chin in his hand as he looked through the menu. Many of the foods here he had no idea what they were, and certainly wouldn't know what's in it if there hadn't been descriptions helpfully placed under each item. Hell, he didn't even know how to pronounce most of these things. Even the wines were in Italian.

"What are you going to get?" the woman asked, peering down at the listed foods. "I'll probably get some pasta dish, since I can't stand seafood."

Alistair was tempted to order a seafood dish just to piss her off, but thought against it. "Probably the cannelloni or the g-nochi," he said, not bothering to wince at how he butchered the words. The woman didn't even seem to know how to pronounce them either since she didn't respond. "Do you like white wine or red wine?"

"Either is fine," Caroline said. "Oh, and I'm ordering some of these crostino-things as a side. Now where is our server?"

Alistair repressed the urge to roll his eyes. The woman was so goddamn impatient. He continued to gaze over the wine selections as the woman continued to talk, trying to determine what she wanted.

"Um...excuse me..."

Both Alistair and Caroline looked up, startled at the quiet, heavily accented Italian voice. Standing there at their table was a young man, maybe twenty at the oldest. His hair was dark, almost a charcoal grey, but that could be the lighting, and it was possibly shoulder length it hadn't been tied back into a small tail. He was pale, paler than even the twins. It was like he never went outside before. He was thin, his uniform almost seeming to hang off him at the shoulders. His face was also thin, with his cheekbones jutting out slightly and his cheeks flat in comparison to the fuller cheeks of the man they had seen earlier. He looked gaunt, tired even, with dark shadows under his eyes. His eyes... they were just as strange as his hair color- the same charcoal grey.

Alistair couldn't help but be fascinated at the color. They were so strange, unlike his family's different shade of greens, or the blues and browns or the occasional violet and red. They were different because they weren't a vibrant color, nor were they earthy like the browns and dark greens. He had seen silver-greys and blue-greys before, but never a dark grey.

The young man smiled, although it was more of a twitch as his lips quivered and his eyes flickered nervously between the two. He looked... scared, uncertain. He didn't look like one of the servers he had seen wandering about the place earlier, so he must be some new guy who pulled the short straw.

"H-hello," he stammered slowly, as if trying to enunciate each word correctly without his accent butchering it up. "Are you ready to order?"

Caroline narrowed her eyes at the server, clearly unimpressed with him. "Yes, I want the ravioli dish, no sauce on it though."

Alistair wanted to make a face. Why eat pasta without sauce on it? That's like eating pizza without cheese. The young man had written it down though, the pen scratching on the paper before looking up from his work at him.

"I'll take the g-nochi and a Sangiovese wine, please."

"A gee-no-chi?" the server slowly pronounced back, his brow furrowing as he paused in his writing, biting his lip as he tried to process the word in his head. Alistair felt bad for butchering the word so horribly, and was about to point it out to the man what he wanted on the menu before the grey eyes brightened. "Oh! You mean gnocchi."

That... didn't even sound like how it was written, but okay. "Yeah, sorry," Alistair said, his sheepish smile to the man more genuine than the one he gave the woman earlier. The young man even returned it with a slightly greater twitch of his lips that lasted more than a second before it was hidden behind the notepad, his pen scribbling away.

"Would you like the wine now or with the meal?" he asked softly, lowering the pad once more.

Caroline had the nerve to roll her eyes. "Of course we want it before!" she snapped at the man, causing him to flinch slightly.

"I-I'll be back with your wine, if that is all," he stammered slowly, taking the menus from them. Alistair nodded, and the young man was off through the restaurant once more. Alistair watched him depart, or rather, the backside of him. Even while looking half-starved, the kid certainly had a nice arse in that uniform. Way better than Caroline's. He didn't need to look at hers to tell. With a bit of filling out, he would be quite the looker. Idly he wondered why the kid was so scraggly- perhaps an illness?

"He didn't even tell us his name, doesn't have a name tag, or tell us when our meals' are going to be done," Caroline grumbled, "He's so rude and slow. Why is he even working here when he can't even speak proper English?"

He spoke English very well, Alistair wanted to say, but instead pressed his lips together into a thin line. "He's new," he stated, leaning back in his chair. "This is probably his first time on the floor that's so busy."

"Well, he's obviously in the wrong job if he can't handle this," she said like it was the most logical thing in the world. Alistair wanted to see her try to serve this many people with so few servers. Some women had to complain about everything. Not that some men complained too, but it easier to tell them to keep their mouths shut by breaking their noses. Mama Kirkland would skin him alive if she found out he punched a woman.

The young server came back again with their wine, pouring out their first glasses for them before leaving again towards the kitchens, with Alistair watching his retreat once more. Caroline again complained about him being rude as she sipped her wine a bit too fast. She then went to ask some random questions about him, diverting from her previous annoyance with the server to annoying Alistair. She questioned him about his family, his favorite color, what he did for a living, of which the answers were five brothers and his mother, azure, and odd jobs. She questioned why he didn't have a stable job and he avoided the question by asking what she did for a living. That opened up for about twenty minutes of her chatting about herself, her job (a hairdresser), her friends, and her three cats. Alistair let her chat, most of the information going through one ear and out the other as he subtly looked out the window to watch people and cars go by, sipping idly at his wine and wishing for something a bit stronger to put him out of his misery.

He caught the reflection of their unnamed server in the window and turned to find him heading towards them with plates in his hands. "I apologize for the wait," he said slowly in his Italian accent, setting the plates before the two. "Do you need another bottle of wine?" he asked, glancing over at the bottle that was two-thirds empty already (Caroline surly could suck wine down fast).

"No, that's fine, thanks," Alistair said. "This should get us through the meal." Since he wasn't planning on drinking anymore than what he had left in his glass- he needed to save his liver for the pub down the street.

The server nodded slowly. "I hope you enjoy your meal," he said before taking a step back to leave.

"Wait a minute, where's my crostino?" Caroline asked briskly, her eyes flickering around the table to the server.

The man stopped, his charcoal grey eyes widening a second. "Y-your crostino?" he fumbled in his pocket, pulling out his notepad and flipping through it. "Y-you did not order-"

"I most certainly did!" Caroline snapped, her cheeks flushing slightly in anger. "You apparently cannot listen and write at the same time! Or do I need to talk slowly so you can hear me better?"

The server's pale face turned white as he visibly cringed at the woman's anger, fear, hurt, and something Alistair couldn't identify flickering through those dark eyes. "_Mi dispiace_, ma'am," he said hurriedly. "I'll go fix it now." His accent got a bit thicker when he was upset, Alistair noted as the server scribbled in the pad before disappearing into the kitchens once more. Yet he was more irritated at Caroline than he ever could be at the server.

"Was that really necessary?" he asked, turning his spring green eyes to the woman, who huffed at him.

"He's being rude! The only way to get through their thick skulls is to be rude back! It worked, didn't it?"

Alistair gritted his teeth and counted to ten so he didn't end up yelling at the stupid bint. "I don't remember you ordering that dish either, you know."

"Well, I did."

He let out a heavy sigh. He wasn't going to win with this one. "Just try not to rip his throat out next time, alright?" The scowl he got certainly didn't win him any points either. What, did she expect him to support her even though she was in the wrong? She was being a complete arsehole to the poor guy.

Alistair busied himself with his gnocchi- which happened to be very good- instead of arguing the point further. Caroline just picked at her food, being the little shit that she was, and drank the rest of the wine.

It was only five minutes before the server returned with the "forgotten" plate, murmuring apologies as he set the plate down. It was like fancy little toasts with stuff on top. Alistair wanted to thank him, but Caroline took one look at the dish and immediately went to tear the poor man's throat out. Again.

"What is this?" she asked with a growl, pointing towards the dish. The server stiffened, worrying his lip for a moment.

"Um... it's the crostino?" he said hesitantly.

Wrong answer, apparently, as the woman snapped "No! What's this?" She gestured towards the green vegetable topping on the dainty pieces of toasted bread.

"S-spinach?"

Caroline stared at the man like he was stupid for a few seconds. "Are you trying to kill me?" she asked seriously, her eyes narrowed on the server.

The young man stared gobsmacked at the woman. There was a glint of anger in his charcoal eyes, a spark against the coals, but it disappeared when he dug his fingernails into the palms of his hands and took a breath to speak. "No, I would never-"

"Apparently you are!" Oh great, they were attracting attention. Alistair wanted to groan as he noticed eyes from nearby tables on them. "I am allergic to spinach! You should know better than to stick something like this in front of me!" She wasn't done yet in her verbal attack as she continued. "Why are you a server I have no idea. You're positively rude, you're slower than shit, you act like you forgot things when you clearly didn't, you give people food they're allergic to, and you're standing there acting like an idiot! How in the world did you get this job is beyond me. The owner must've felt sorry for you because you're no good at anything else!"

Their table had the attention of the restaurant now, people stopping their meals to stare. Even another server, not the bubbly talkative one from before, was just standing there watching the scene unfold. The young man at the receiving end of the woman's ire looked like he was about to burst into tears at any second, the sliver of anger from before gone as his teeth gnawed into his lower lip. It looked like he had curled in on himself, his eyes glassy, not focused on anything at all as he silently let the woman continue to steamroll him without a single peep.

Alistair was sick of it.

"Excuse me," he butted in on Caroline's rant, looking at the server who flinched at the second voice, his eyes refocusing as he looked over at Alistair- or rather the table in front of him. "May we have the bill, please?"

The server nodded his head jerkily, and slowly made his way to the side of the restaurant near a register, where he shakily got the bill for them. The woman was now complaining to Alistair, but he ignored the woman even as the server came back. His knuckles were white as he gripped the leather folder that the bill was in, his hands shaking as he handed it to Alistair.

He didn't even look at it. Instead, Alistair leaned forward and dropped the thing directly onto the whiny bitch's plate with a clatter. That shut the woman up, her blue eyes wide as Alistair casually rose up from the table, picking up his own plate of half-eaten gnocchi with one hand. His free hand reached out, gently taking hold of the server by the elbow, who stiffened under the contact, and proceeded to lead the young man into the kitchens. The server let him without resistance.

The kitchens were hot and noisy, with the banging and clanging of pots and pans and shouting of Italian back and forth. One man appeared around a stove with the talkative auburn-haired server from before. He was taller than the server, perhaps even taller than Alistair, and he had muscles on him that made Alistair question whether it had been a good idea to walk in here. However there were resemblances between the server and this large man. The older man's hair was several shades darker than the younger server beside him with several small curls visible amongst the wild, windswept strands, but their honey colored eyes were certainly the same. Their round faces had the same contours and their noses were the same. Even their smiles were the same. Was he the talkative server's father? They were definitely related, that's for sure.

The pair of them had spotted Alistair and the gaunt server, who was now shivering beside him as tears trickled down his cheeks. He didn't make a sound, which was surprising and slightly strange.

The smiles faded off the two workers as the younger man came fluttering over to the server, taking the tearful man into his arms. He patted his back, murmuring something in Italian to console the other server as the father-like man came over, his face unnaturally serious.

"What happened?" The tone he used held no room for argument- not that Alistair wanted to. Standing in front of him he could finally judge that this man had a good four or five centimeters on him and his shoulders were wide on his frame. Alistair wasn't small either, both in height and in the muscle department, but this guy gave off the vibe old-time Mafia hitman in his current state. The Italian could probably clean the floor with him along with half of the restaurant without breaking a sweat.

So Alistair opened his mouth and began to tell him exactly what happened- the short and blunt version. "My date decided to be a fucking little piece of shit by complaining about everything, accusing this guy here for trying to kill her because she's suddenly allergic to spinach, and basically told him that he's a useless charity case."

The taller man's brow furrowed as he glanced over to the two servers. The younger relation (son?) stared at Alistair in disbelief before asking something in Italian to the charcoal-eyed server. The young man rubbed the side of his face with the sleeve of his shirt to clean his tears and simply nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

The older man growled- Alistair straightened up, ready to get the fuck out of there. The man seemed to realize this and gave him a slightly sheepish look before his eyes hardened again. "I'll deal with this. You can stay here if you want." Without waiting for a reply the taller man left the kitchens to wreak hell in the dining area.

"Come on," the younger brunette said, smiling up at Alistair as he took hold of his free hand. He dragged both the other server and himself to a side room, which turned out to be a break room with lots of comfy looking chairs and a table. Alistair sat in one of the cushioned chairs from heaven while the brunette settled the distraught server into another.

"Thank you for what you did!" the brunette server said once the charcoal-eyed server was taken care of, his chatting mode turned on once more. "We're so short-staffed and Varinius has only been with us for a week and he usually just bakes but he wanted to help us servers and Nonno couldn't say no and he was doing really well until this happened and he would've been run over by that horrible lady if you didn't help! Oh! I'm Feliciano by the way! You can call me Feli! Everyone else does. Would you like some desserts?"

So, the charcoal-eyed man was named Varinius. That didn't sound much like an Italian name, unlike Feliciano, but who was he to understand the Italian naming system? He watched with slight amusement as Feliciano fluttered about, pulling plastic-wrapped homemade cookies out of seemingly no where and piled them in front of Alistair, saying that he could have as many as he wanted. Varinius seemed to have calmed down, and was watching the pair of them with sad, tired eyes, his knees tucked to his chest.

Feliciano continued to chatter all the while, talking about his Nonno (who apparently was the tall muscular man from before) who both owned the place and was head chef. Some of the family worked there as well. One of the other cooks who was sick happened to be Feliciano's elder twin brother named Lovino and one of the servers who was out was their younger brother, Romeo. Varinius happened to be their cousin who not only just began working there a week ago, came to live with them a week ago from Italy. Feliciano didn't get into details on that bit, and instead showered Alistair with even more cookies.

"And what's your name?" Feliciano asked. He was now sitting in a chair, kicking his feet back and forth as he watched Alistair with fascination. "I know your last name must be Kirkland, but you don't sound like the ones who called."

Alistair- he had finished his gnocchi some time ago- leaned back in his seat and groaned. "That was either Blake or Connor. They thought it'd be funny to set me up on a date with some unbearable bitch, the little bastards." His tone held no malice, only a fond exasperation. Siblings were made to piss each other off. "I'm Alistair- and no, do not call me "Alli" or I'll put my foot up your arse."

"You sound like Lovi!" Feliciano giggled, his face practically splitting in two as he smiled. "He can't be a server because he's curses a lot and likes to be grumpy all the time."

The door to the break room opened and the tall man now dubbed as "Nonno" came in. "Well, that woman's a piece of work," he said, running a hand through his wild locks.

"Hopefully neither of us will have to see her again," Alistair said. With the questioning look from the older man, Feliciano happily filled him on the prank dating bit and the man laughed.

"Well then! Seems like you were in for a bit of excitement. But thank you for helping Varinius, here." The man then gave him a large paper bag with four wine bottles in it. Alistair wanted to protest, but the man wouldn't hear a word of it. "Take it and don't worry about it! It's just a 'thank-you' gift!" The man then went over to Varinius, squatting down to talk to him quietly in Italian for a bit while Feliciano happily piled the cookies he had given Alistair previously into the bag and probably added a few more to to the batch.

Alistair rolled his eyes at the two Italians before looking over at Varinius. He found the young man staring at him, so he gave him a small smile. The charcoal-eyed man's lips twitched upward in a tiny smile in return- which "Nonno" had noticed and looked behind him at Alistair. A smirk crossed his face before he turned back to Varinius and spoke in Italian, causing the younger man's ears to color.

Whatever the older man said made Feliciano grin too and turned his head around, saying something back in Italian. The charcoal-eyed Varinius' pale cheeks flushed pink before turning to look away from the other two Italians who laughed at him. Alistair wondered what they had said to get the kid flustered, but was distracted when he heard the sound of pen scratching on paper.

He turned his eyes to Feliciano, who had a pen out and was writing something down on the paper bag. He didn't get to read it as the honey-eyed server pushed the bag into his arms. "Well! We better get back to work and you need to get home! Your family must be worried for taking so long!"

"I'm sure they're not too worried," Alistair said, but it was in vain as he found himself out of his chair and being pushed towards the exit, the older man calling out his farewells to him. Feliciano himself gave him a cheerful goodbye and a wink before pushing the confused scarlet-haired man out of the door and into the street.

"That was fucking weird," he muttered to himself after standing there dumbly in front of the restaurant with his arms full of the bag full of wine and over three dozen cookies for a good minute. He sighed, shifting the bag to one arm to find his phone. It was already a quarter to ten- where did the time go? He didn't even have enough time to go to the pub before sneaking back home before curfew- Mama Kirkland always made the boys follow the rules of the house, even if they didn't live there all the time. Knowing his mother, she'd probably be waiting all night wanting to hear all about the date, or the sham that it was.

He was about to put his phone away when something on the bag caught his attention. There, written in a loopy handwriting was the name "Varinius Vargas" and a phone number.

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><p><strong><span>Google Translations:<span> **

**Italian: Mi dispiace- I am sorry. **

**Strange Food Stuff:  
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**I have a confession to make: I've never been in an Italian restaurant. I've never had Chinese either until about May of last year but I would like to think that didn't count because when I went it was like, seafood night or something so I didn't eat much because I don't like most seafoods. I had everyone's fortune cookies though (which is not Chinese). But anyway, this means I went to Wiki and found random Italian dishes and wines and stuff. So everything here can be questionable and I am sorry for getting it wrong.  
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**Gnocchi- pronounced Neaw-key if I'm correct, is a type of mini-dumpling dish. Usually contains some sort of cheese and herbs.**

**Cannelloni- oftentimes referred to as manicotti outside of Italy, is a hollow pasta that's stuffed with meat, vegetables, sauce, and cheese.**

**Crostino- an appetizer made of small pieces of grilled toast with various toppings which can include meats, vegetables, cheeses, sauces, and herbs.**

**Sangiovese wine- a type of wine made from sangiovese variety of grapes. Very acidic and supposedly tends to taste like sour cherries.**

**Notes:**

**Caroline's no one important. Just a random human. No need to worry, she probably won't come back.  
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**This is practically the first time I included all the Kirklands. I know there's a difference between Ireland and N. Ireland, but Hetalia fandom-wise? I have no clue. I tried looking it up, as well as the most common fanmade names for both Irelands and Wales. Apparently Wales is popularly dubbed "Dylan" so I used it, but the Irelands? I sort of vaguely remember the name "Connor" so I just went with it, and I picked Blake because... I have no fucking clue, I just did. It was that or Blaze/Blaise, but I figured Blake fitted better.**

**Also, you may have noticed that I used "Alistair" instead of "Allistor" in this story like I did in my last one. This is because 1- I thought Alistair would fit better with Scotland and 2- Allistor looks really weird when it's repeated twelve bazillion times, especially when spell check says it's wrong. I found it distracting to have so many red lines popping up so I changed it. Besides, Alistair's a Scottish name while Allistor's a Greek word... (I know, I looked this up, I need to stop).  
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**I also probably butchered their ages. Apart from Scotland who I'm pretty certain is the oldest and Sealand who's the youngest, I have no idea how their ages went, so I took a gander and made so it goes like this from eldest to youngest: Scotland (Alistair), England (Arthur), Ireland (Connor), N. Ireland (Blake), Wales (Dylan), Sealand (Peter). Also made the Irelands twins for no apparent reason other than because I didn't know what else to do with them.**

**Mama Kirkland is, quite obviously, the mother of the family. I have no idea what to name her, but she's apparently very important and does very important things, so help me pick out a classy name for her, please. (Also she's technically Britannia, so that might help).**

****The cousin mentioned in the story will probably be New Zealand. Because sheep. ****

**Eye colors? Yes, there's going to be somewhat of a theme. I noticed that some families tended to have similar eye colors, so I'm going to work on that. Kirklands all have a shade of green. Spring green, although it sorts of looks like a funny shade of blue, is in fact a shade of green. If you go looking it up, in Google it should be the second color tile, or the weird bright blue-ish green-ish color. I sort of see Alistair with a very bright color, and I have seen some fanart with his eyes both blue and green, so I improvised. The twins' have emerald green, while England's will probably be a forest green. Dylan I'm not too sure about, so I'll take suggestions on that.**

**Peter... Peter's eyes are blue though, now that I think about it. I could say blue-green, that way I get the best of both worlds. What do you guys think?**

****For the Italians, the relative ages and names go like this: Romano (Lovino), Italy (Feliciano), Vatican (Varinius), Seborga (Romeo). I'm thinking Rome would be Romulus. I'm also thinking of adding Sicily and San Marino as cousins, but I will take opinions on this idea (plus names!).****

**Italians' eyes are honey-colored for the most part. This is because I am a little shit and never actually looked it up. Apparently Italy's appearance changes slightly from the manga to the anime (his eyes and hair are brown in the manga, and auburn and amber in the anime. Rome's eyes are also, apparently, amber in the anime). I decided to keep the honey coloration because it's a food item and they're Italians, so why not? I have most likely interchanged the hair color for Italy, which I am sorry for any confusion. **

**I'm using terms such as centimeters and secondary school because I'm probably going to base this story in England and want to play the part. I would say America but somehow I cannot picture Scotland in America for some reason, so I'm not going to. **

**1cm is approximately 0.394 of an inch. Secondary school is equivalent to high school. In case anyone wanted to know. **

****I hope I didn't bore you all! I know I like to ramble on so please tell me when it gets a bit too much! Please review and tell me your opinions thus far! Who should I include in this story? Is it any good? Should I bother continuing this? ****


	2. Chapter 2

**I wrote this chapter literally when I was half asleep. I have no idea how well it turned out, so I'll apologize ahead of time for it's crappiness. **

**Warnings: Spelling and grammar errors, and some (a lot) of possible OOC-ness because I'm terrible at personalities when I'm dead to the world.**

**Disclaimers: Do not own Hetalia or its characters. **

**IMPORTANT NOTICE AT THE BOTTOM NOTES. PLEASE READ.**

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><p>Victoria Kirkland was a very busy woman. Her place in politics had lead her to spend many hours late into the evening doing paperwork, calling every other person under the sun to get their own work done so she could do hers in the short time frame, doing public appearances, going to meetings, and telling the interns for the hundredth time that week to organize the papers by alphabetical order and no, that file for a review of an agricultural law was not to go into the shredder.<p>

Despite her job, she made time to see her family. She loved all her precious sons to bits, but they were such a handful, especially her eldest. She knew that all boys went through the troublesome 'rebellious teenage' stage- even Arthur when he went and joined that rock band or whatever it was when he was still in secondary school, but at least he'd sharpened up and went into a respectable field. Blake and Connor had just begun theirs, but it was hard to tell any difference as they were both very rambunctious to begin with. She held high hopes for them though, as they had a few years to grow out of the phase before they picked their direction in life. Dylan and Peter were still a bit too young to reach that stage yet, of which she was thankful for. However, the problem laid with Alistair, her eldest son.

At twenty-six, he downright refused to go to a university and his 'jobs' weren't decent, respectable trades for a man of his background. Really, a bouncer, then a dock worker, followed by the occasional delivery and God knows what else? Why couldn't he get at least a desk job? There were plenty positions that didn't need any degree from a university, but Alistair insisted on carrying on like a lower class wayward scamp. He could even afford to buy a house, but no, he had to go off and rent some shabby flat off in one of the shadiest parts of town. It was nice to see him try to save his money, but he didn't need to go that cheap. He knew that she would give him anything that he'd ask for, but he was just too stubborn to accept any help. It had been like pulling teeth just to get him to drop by and visit more than once a month.

Despite his choice in lifestyle, Victoria did her damnedest to sway her eldest son into a better situation. Since she couldn't convince him to go get a degree or find a more suitable job, she had turned to trying to convince him to settle down with a nice girl in hopes that if he had someone to tame his wild ways he would realize that getting a better job or go back to school would benefit him in the long run. Of course he seemed to do the complete opposite of what she wanted by going off, getting drunk, and sleeping with anyone that he could get into a bed. At first she had been horrified that he'd mess around with his own gender, but at this stage of the game she just wanted him to be with _someone _longer than a few scant hours.

When Connor and Blake came and told her that Alistair wouldn't be joining them for dinner as he had a date, she nearly danced around the kitchen in glee. Perhaps things were looking up! Yet the next morning her son refused to speak anything about the date other than a "It was fine". He did bring back several bottles of Italian wine and almost an entire bagful of homemade cookies from the restaurant he went to, so she assumed that at least something good came out of it and he was just being his stubborn self in refusing to answer her questions. He would open up about it after awhile, she had assumed.

A week had passed, but Victoria still had no idea how the date was, or even who Alistair went with. She was about to the end of her patience with him. Did she have to storm in, tie him to a chair, and threaten him with soap in his mouth just to make him speak? If she found out the date was all but a hoax to get her off his back, he was going to be in a world of hurt. No matter if he was three or twenty-six, he was going to get turned over her knee for stunts like that.

She was formulating a plan to lock her eldest son in and pull the information out of him when she walked into the home after a long day at work to find three of her sons wrestling in the middle of the entryway.

"ALISTAIR SCOTT, CONNOR BRIEN, AND BLAKE LIAM. CORNERS. NOW."

The three jumped apart like startled rabbits and darted into three corners of the room. Or at least two did- Alistair made a face and went to his rather stiffly. "This stupid. I'm twenty-six, not six."

"My house, my rules, young man. Now pipe down and face the wall," Victoria snapped. Her fiery-haired son huffed and turned to face the corner, scowling darkly.

"Now then," she continued after a moment. "Blake, tell me what was going on the moment I walked into the door?" Blake was the one who could give a straight answer without going off on a tangent, which was why she asked him first. Alistair wouldn't have said anything and Connor would've blabbered on and on.

Blake shifted, but grinned at the wall. "You know that date Alistair went on? Well, the girl turned out to be a total broad, but it wasn't a total loss!"

"Yeah! He-" Connor began, only to be hushed by Victoria.

"Wait your turn," she said before turning back to Blake. "Continue."

"Well, we found out he got a number to one of the waiters, and he has been avoiding using it all this week, so we wanted to give him a hand."

Victoria pressed her lips together to form a thin line, her eyes flickering to the back of her eldest son's head. "Is this true, Alistair?"

The young man let out a sharp sigh. "Yes," he said tersely, glaring at the wall as if it had insulted him. But he refused to say anything more on the matter, but she wasn't going to have any of that.

"Give me the phone," she said, holding out her hand. It was Connor who had it, and he left his corner beaming as he passed off the device. Victoria shooed him back into the corner as she unlocked the phone to scroll through the contacts.

Many of the contacts she already knew, so she skipped over those, but some that she didn't she asked (demanded) her son to tell her who they were. Most turned out to be work contacts, while one happened to be a bartender at one of the pubs he went to. Why on Earth would he have the bartender's phone number was beyond her, but she went through the list until she reached the very last one- another name she did not recognize.

"Varinius Vargas?" she asked, raising an eyebrow at the name. Her eyes flickered to Alistair, who stood rigid as the name was pronounced. "Wasn't that restaurant you went to owned by a Vargas? Is this his son?"

"Nephew," Alistair grumbled into the corner.

Victoria hummed at the correction, her eyes focused on the phone again as she made a split-second decision on tapping the call button and switching the phone to speaker.

"What the hell are you doing, mother?!" Alistair nearly jumped from his corner, but a sharp look made him freeze in place.

"Do not speak to me in that manner, young man. Turn around and face the corner. I do not want to hear a peep from you until I say so." Victoria's voice turned cold, smothering her eldest son's fire as he turned back around to face the corner again, tamed for the time being.

The ringing tone ended as the call was received. "H-hello?" The voice was soft, accented by an Italian heritage. He sounded young, but it could just be the way his accent twisted his voice.

"Good evening. This is Victoria Kirkland, is this Varinius Vargas?"

There was a sound of a door creaking open and someone whispered in Italian, but it was cut off quickly as the young man on the other end spoke. "Yes, this is Varinius. Is this... is this about the incident with Alistair Kirkland a few days ago?"

He sounded so worried, his accent becoming slightly thicker as the words tumbled out of his mouth. Victoria smiled.

"My son seems to have neglected to inform me on what happened. Would you care to explain what transpired that night that caused Alistair to refuse to even speak about it?"

There was a short pause, the unfamiliar voice from earlier switched to English and shouted happily "Vari thinks he's cute!". That was quickly followed up by a squeak and a soft thump of a body hitting the floor. Blake and Connor both snickered in their corners while the tips of Alistair's ears flushed pink.

"I'm so, so sorry about that," Varinius' voice returned- she could almost hear the embarrassment.

"But it's true, though!" the second voice pipped in, the rustling of fabric and the creaking of springs as a second body crawled onto what sounded like a bed. "Alistair's date was a total hag and she was being so rude and made Vari cry when he was trying so hard on his first day as a waiter and Alistair just swooped in and ditched her to rescue him!"

"It- it wasn't exactly like that, Feli..." Varinius stammered, but Victoria knew that this "Feli" would just brush whatever he said away with a wave of his hand.

"Everyone has their 'damsel in distress' moments, no need to get so flustered over it. Or, are you flustered because you're thinking about that gorgeous a-" 'Feli''s sentence was cut off once more by another high-pitched squeal followed by giggling as another thud signaling of someone being pushed off the bed again.

"Sorry!" Varinius' accent was nearly choking out the English in his voice now, clearly embarrassed now.

"It's quite alright," Victoria said with a small laugh. "I can see that no matter how old they are siblings are always causing trouble." She gazed fondly at Connor and Blake, who had stuffed their fists into their mouths to keep themselves from laughing and Alistair's neck was turning as vibrant as his hair. "I am glad my son had done something good while on his date." An idea struck her then, her lips curling into a smile. "How about I invite you over for dinner sometime? It would be nice to meet a new friend of Alistair's. How does Thursday sound?"

There was a choking noise, and what sounded like a strangled "what?!" but there was a scraping noise as the phone was snatched away from Varinius' hand.

"Yes, Thursday is fine!" Feli replied cheerfully, the sound of protest muffled as Victoria heard Feli bounced out of reach. "I'll even make sure he wears something decent!"

"Excellent," Victoria smiled. "I'll send a car over to pick him up at six." She was glad someone was working with her on this scheme of playing matchmaker.

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><p>Varinius Vargas was a ball of nerves. He wished that he hadn't let Feliciano into the room when he answered the phone, that way he could've politely declined the offer to dine with the Kirklands and carried on with his life. But of course, Varinius couldn't say no to his cousin, and Feli had it in his head to hook him up with someone ever since they had met for the first time over two years ago. Back then it was all words and no action, as there had been no time for Varinius to actually go on a date with anyone due to reasons that he'd rather not think about at the moment. Now, though, while he had a more permanent fixture in his uncle's (who insisted on being called Nonno despite him not being his grandfather) house, Feliciano had upped the ante in his quest to play not-so-subtle matchmaker.<p>

Ever since that night at the restaurant, Feli had seemed to pin Alistair as the perfect boyfriend for Varinius. Everyday he'd asked him if he had gotten a call from the fiery-haired man, to which the answer was "no". Why would he call? It wasn't like he even knew his phone number or anything... did he? Besides, Alistair was "out of his league" as it was called. He was handsome, but not fake looking, tall too, and that hair with those eyes would make anyone swoon over. Varinius couldn't see how anyone, let alone that man, would see anything in him. He was bony, practically all limbs due to his weight being so low (Nonno was determined to correct that before the year was out... so far he hadn't gained anything), and his hair was too strange, both back in Italy and here. Only old people had grey hair, even as dark as his was, and anyone who mentioned the strange color always told him he had to redye his hair because the black was starting to bleed out. Very few people would listen to him when he told them that it was actually his real hair color.

But then he had gotten a phone call, from Alistair's mother of all people, and proceeded to be invited to dinner with them. Feliciano had been ecstatic about it, even going out and buying Varinius new clothes to wear for the dinner. Feli was determined to make Varinius look good for both Alistair and his family; as to why, Varinius had no idea. It wasn't like it was certain that Alistair was even going to be there, and even if he was, they'd probably kick him out the door before he stepped inside.

Of course Feliciano laughed off any protests he had, and in no time at all even Nonno and Romeo was in on it. Lovino was taking it just as grudgingly as Varinius was, except that there was a a lot more swearing and louder protesting. To anyone else, it would look like Lovino would turn violent at any second and hated just about everyone, even his family, but everyone with the name Vargas knew that it was just Lovino's way to express his feelings in the only way he knew how.

"Somebody in the family has to be the grumpy one!" Nonno would constantly say, laughing as he ducked under whatever object was thrown at his head.

So with three against two, the vote in not going was shot down, and Varinius found himself getting into a rather nice car on Thursday evening wearing the new suit that Nonno and Feliciano dragged him off to buy two days prior. The drive had bee in awkward silence. Varinius tried to speak, but the words got stuck in his throat so he sat quietly, wringing his hands nervously. Only briefly did he wonder where the driver knew where his house was without either him or Feliciano telling him where they lived, but his nerves overrode the thought. He was sure that this wasn't exactly the right way to do things date-wise. He didn't have experience to go from, but wasn't the whole "meet the family" thing supposed to happen way later? He didn't even know Alistair aside from the initial meeting, hell, they weren't even dating, but it seemed that neither his family or Alistair's mother seemed to care about that.

Perhaps he was over thinking this. This could just be a friendly dinner over, and not a date at all. But no matter how many times he tried to tell himself that this wasn't some ploy to match the two of them together despite their protests, Varinius couldn't help but feel that this "dinner" was exactly that.

His heart had jumped into his throat when he spotted where exactly his destination was. Oh God, he didn't expect to be brought to a _mansion_! The house he lived in was on the larger side, but that was because there was five people living there. This place, this place was massive! It had marble columns and large glass windows and perfectly cut grass and manicured shrubs and _oh fuck_.

Varinius practically disappeared in his seat from how low he sank, absolutely terrified. Why oh why did the one person he ever mentioned to Feliciano he thought was cute end up being way, way WAY out of his class?! This was going to hell in a hand basket, he was sure of it.

He was barely able to say "thanks" to the driver when he got out of the car and led by another person up the large steps to the front door. It reminded him of one of those school trips that went to France to visit a chateau, but this one still had people living in it! Varinius just wanted to crawl into a hole and die as he stepped into the marble entryway.

"Ah, you must be Varinius." He was immediately greeted by a tall woman who smiled at him as she approached. She had an oval face, framed by a few strands of soft blond hair that was pinned into a bun. Her eyes were the color of evergreen, which flickered up and down in appraisal of him. Everything about her seemed regal, professional, but there was a sternness about her that told Varinius to never get on her bad side- not that he wanted be on anyone's bad side anyway. She was only slightly taller than he was, although her heels gave her a few more centimeters on top of that.

"Y-yes ma'am," Varinius managed to stutter, his cheeks flushing slightly in embarrassment as he ducked his head to stare at his feet. "It's nice to meet you. Thank you for inviting me." If he was polite, then perhaps they wouldn't kick him out too harshly...

There was a small laugh as the woman stopped before him, a smile playing on her lips. "Please, call me Victoria," she said. "A friend of Alistair's is a friend of mine." There was a hidden meaning behind her words, but Varinius didn't have time to ponder on it as the woman spoke up. "I would introduce you to my sons, but I'm afraid they don't know the meaning of 'being on time'". She let out a sigh before excusing her rude manners as she pulled out her phone. "The only way I can get them to crawl out of whatever hole they're hiding in," she added lightly, her fingers tapping against the screen. "I'm afraid you won't be able to meet my youngest two, as they had... other obligations."

Varinius didn't know what else to do but nod silently, shifting uncomfortably as Victoria put the phone away. As soon as she did, a loud rumbling noise sounded as two pairs of feet echoed through the hallways and thundered down the steps. A pair of copper-haired boys who looked exactly alike at a distance tumbled down the stairs and skittered to a stop before their mother and Varinius, their lips turned in wide grins. They were dressier clothing, but one had their shirt untucked and the other had accidentally pulled one of their socks over their pants legs. Twin sets of emerald eyes glinted mischievously at him. They had to be only a few years younger than I was, close to Romeo's age. Varinius had to hide a smile at the thought of the three of them ever meeting up. He doubted Lovino would ever be able to sleep, as these two clearly had the air of pranksters and troublemakers and grumpy people were always the best to prank, or at least that's what Romeo said.

"Why hello there," one said with a cheeky grin. Like his mother, he too scrutinized Varinius before turning to face his twin. "You know, he isn't that bad of a looker."

"Hm, could use a bit of fattening up, though," the other said with a nod. "Maybe it's like Allie's kink or something."

"Boys," Victoria scolded as Varinius ducked his head again to hide his flushed cheeks. "Do not be crude in front of guests. And please fix your clothing. You look like you got dressed in the dark."

Turning to Varinius, the woman smiled. "Varinius, these are my sons, Connor and Blake." She gestured to each twin as she introduced them. "Connor, Blake, this is Varinius."

"Hello," he managed to say without stuttering, although he was still a bit flushed from the previous comments.

More footsteps on the stairs brought two more people to the main floor. One was the fiery-haired Alistair, and the other was a shorter, dirty-blond man with an impressive set of eyebrows who looked like he'd rather suck on a thousand lemons than to be here. Alistair was about as well dressed as the twins had been with his shirt untucked and several buttons undone. He had his hands in his pockets as he walked with a slight slouch. The shorter man was about Varinius' age, and he was as trim and proper as Victoria was.

Victoria make a "tisk" noise as she went over to Alistair. "Really, how did you get your clothes so ruffled?" she asked, smoothing out some of the wrinkles on his shirt. "And button up! You'll get sick from the draft!"

"Yes mum," Alistair grumbled, his fingers lazily working on the buttons. When Victoria's back was turned as she fussed over Connor as he thought it'd be a good idea to tuck both socks over his pants instead of just one, Alistair caught Varinius' gaze and rolled his eyes. Varinius had to bite his lip to keep from smiling. Victoria was much like Nonno when he was in one of his moods. Feliciano and Romeo would whine at being fussed over while Lovino would curse up a storm, slap at his hands and proceed to lock himself in his room.

"I'm sorry for their sorry state," Victoria said, her voice promising a scolding later as she turned back to Varinius. "This is Arthur, and you've already met Alistair." She gestured to the proper blond before checking her watch. "Goodness, dinner must be getting cold by now!"

Dinner turned out to be a very English-y one, with very rich foods that Varinius knew he wouldn't be able to stomach. He always had trouble eating anything at all, but it would be rude to just sit there with an empty plate, so he slipped onto his plate whatever was closest to him, which thankfully were mostly vegetables.

"So Varinius, what do you do for a living?" Victoria asked politely, breaking up the silence of eating and opening the interrogation session.

"I... work at my uncle's restaurant now," he stated softly. "I usually bake the desserts."

"'Now'? What were you doing before?" Blake pipped in, staring at Varinius as if he was some sort of science project they had just dropped something they weren't supposed to in it.

Varinius let out a small sigh, his shoulders stiffening. "I was in Italy taking... taking care of a family problem."

"So... like a Mobster?"

If he had taken a drink, Varinius was sure he'd choke on it. "N-no!" he stammered, his face paling, then flushing at his outburst.

"Not everyone who's Italian is a Mobster," Alistair snorted, not so subtly kicking Blake under the table.

No... but Varinius knew for a fact that the Mafia was the reason why Nonno had left Italy to begin with, and he was pretty sure some branches of the Vargas family were knee deep in the criminal organization, but he wasn't going to mention that for it was a very sore topic.

"Where did you live in Italy, if I may ask?" Victoria broke through the small pause, lowering for fork to watch the Italian.

"Rome," he said softly. "Before that I was in Florence." He added that as an afterthought, since he really hadn't been in Rome for very long.

"You don't have a degree, do you?" Arthur's voice cut in, his eyes narrowed. "Do you plan on going to school anytime soon?"

A sudden urge to just slam Eyebrows' face into his plate boiled in Varinius' gut, but he quickly swallowed it down with a sip of water. "I have gone to university," he stated, his voice no longer shaky due to his calming annoyance as he set his glass down. "I almost graduated but had to drop out at the last minute because of family issues." He wasn't going to mention that he had gotten most of his classes out of the way before he even graduated from secondary school through a special program he'd been in, but that wasn't any of Arthur's business.

"Oooh! What were you going into? Culinary Arts?" Connor pipped in.

"Or maybe just Arts?" Blake added.

"Business?"

"Brewery?"

"Wine tasting?"

"Shrub groomer?"

"Boys!" Victoria shushed the pair's antics with a laugh.

"None of the above," Varinius couldn't help but smile at the twins. He didn't think there was a degree for trimming shrubs.

"Then what?" Arthur huffed, folding his arms over his chest. The others looked intrigued- Varinius wasn't going to get out of this one.

"I was studying to be a linguist," he said softly, his shoulders slumping slightly. He really wished he had continued on, but at the time he couldn't...

"What languages do you know?" It was Alistair who asked, his bright eyes gazing at him curiously. Varinius stared at him for a second before glancing down at his plate, nervously fidgeting with his cutlery before speaking.

"Italian," he began slowly. "English, French, Spanish, Portuguese, Greek, Arabic, Hebrew Turkish, Latin... One of Feli's friends' brother is teaching me German, their neighbor's helping me out with Hungarian, and one of Nonno's regular customers just agreed to tutor me in Russian."

There was a long pause as the other occupants of the table just stared at him. "That's... thirteen languages," Alistair said slowly. Varinius smiled sheepishly.

"I like languages," he murmured, going back to staring at the table again. It wasn't like he was good at anything else... apart from baking.

"I think it's wonderful," Victoria said, positively beaming while the twins clamored to try to get him to say something in one of the other languages. Arthur remained silent, looking like he was trying to secretly brood but failing sort of miserably at it.

Dinner ended with laughter as Connor and Blake made Varinius say various things in the languages he knew- and asking him to say things in languages he didn't know. How was he supposed to know how to say "Bananas and smoking hot skinny jeans" in Klingon?

It ended with Victoria making Alistair walk Varinius out after saying farewells as the pair walked down the marble steps towards the drive. "I'm sorry you had to go through that," Alistair said lowly so they wouldn't be heard. "Mother tends to go a bit overboard with stuff like this."

"She means well," Varinius said with a small smile. "She's very nice."

"That's because she likes you," Alistair said with an eye roll. "Even hard-to-please Arthur's grudgingly tolerating you after you put him in his place. Thirteen languages..." He shook his head in disbelief.

They reached the end of the steps, the car waiting. "Tell you what," Alistair said suddenly after a moment of silence. "How about I take you for a few drinks sometime as an apology for having to deal with all of...this." He gestured towards the doorway.

Varinius gaped at him for a moment. "I... don't drink," he stammered out. "But, I would like that," he added quickly. "I can drink water. It's not a problem."

The fiery-haired man tensed for a moment at the beginning of the sentence, then relaxed, breathing out a heavy sigh. "I'll shoot you a message, then," he said before letting Varinius get into the back of the car.

Once out of the driveway Varinius sank deeply into the seat, utterly exhausted as his heart hammered in his chest. Did he... just agree to go out with Alistair?

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><p><strong>Notes:<strong>

**Mama Kirkland's meddling with her son's personal life... and Feli's not helping matters. **

**Mama Kirkland is in fact Victoria Kirkland. It was either Victoria or Catherine, so I took a random shot in the dark and picked Victoria. **

**A little bit of grumpy Arthur's around, and the twins are being their usual selfs. I really need to work with Arthur some more...  
><strong>

**I will probably end up reading this chapter, hate how I wrote it, and end up not doing anything about it because I'm a lazy arse. Just to let you know.**

**IMPORTANT NOTICE: **

**I am leaving to go to school in early January, so I will most likely put all my stories on hiatus until I settle in. This is a warning to all of you so you don't worry as to why I haven't updated anything yet. I have also started like four stories and I have no idea how to juggle all of them at the same time. **

**Yeah, I started four stories. One's not even on this site. Anyway, my profile has been updated to hold some info on where to find me elsewhere (although I haven't done anything to them apart from Wattpad). **

**Thanks for reading!**


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